Show and Tell
by sunshinetina
Summary: There's a game of 'Show and Tell' organised in the kindergarten. Everyone has to bring up his/her toy. Jim, however, doesn't have one but soon discovers an irreplaceable friend. Sherlock gets an idea from Jim's actions. Slight Loki presence. Based on the fabulous art of 'thebritishteapot' on tumblr:


**SHOW AND TELL**

I hate those stupid kindergarten games. I most sincerely do. Once there was a 'Hide and Seek' one. So damn boring – even not being in the kindergarten (I was sick then), I could tell who was hiding where. John was behind the jam shelf – the smacking noise always reveals him. Molly was playing with the bloody red lipstick of our teacher – she is always desperately trying to look pretty (without any success, I have to say) – so, she is in the teachers' room. Donovan is scrubbing the floors, judging by the constant awful condition of her knees – she is under a bed, then. Whose bed? Anderson's, of course – they are such good friends! While Anderson is covered by dinosaur toys somewhere around Donovan's bed. Lestrade is always distracted, playing with the water pistols – he is not interested in the game cause it is 'not his division'. Jim, however, is always unpredictable. Therefore, incredibly interesting.

'John, what have you brought for 'Show and Tell'?'

Seriously? A 'Show and Tell' game? You gotta be kidding my superior brain.

Oh, dear God! She is not kidding. Please, someone! Kill me at this very instant.

Please? Anyone?

I hate you.

'This is my favourite jar of jam.'

You don't say, John! I've tried to break it several times but John hit me so hard in the arm – I think I still have a bruise there. _Ouch!_ Yes, I still do.

I stretch my hand to take Skully with me. After all, it's the only thing I can relate to – my only precious belonging. My only friend. And I am extremely proud of him. Let me see how you'd react to my perfect friend, Mrs Pink Stupid Teacher!

'Mine is...'

'Jim!'

Wait! Did you just interrupt me? Did you just interrupt my genius?

Did I mention that I hate you?

I hate you.

'Jim, you don't have anything? At least a toy?'

Jim is pissed off, just like me. I can deduce this by the bored and rather irritated look in his big black eyes. He rolls them and puts his hands behind his back. He clicks nervously his tongue, moves left and right a bit. Frowns, sighs, and finally decides to fold his arms in front of his chest.

'Toys are sooooooo ordinary. 'Show and Tell'. Booooring,' then he leans towards me, 'But you know how it is, tedious Sherlock. You have an ordinary friend. You've got John. Maybe I should get myself one.'

'Listen, Jimmy, you have to bring something... a toy, for tomorrow. Right?'

Jim nods irksomely, and walks away, murmuring something under his nose. He is right, though. I don't even consider Skully a toy. He is a friend. John is a friend too. It's a bit different, I have to admit, but... Oh, well. Doesn't matter. I had a toy to show. Jim did not. I wonder what he'd show, though. His Bee Gees album – a heirloom from his late father? Or his Westwood tie – a present from his mother for his birthday? Or the stories he writes, under the name of Richard (oh, Gosh, what a silly name!) Brook? Interesting.

_I will ssssskin her. I will burn the teacher's heart out of her. Grrrrrr..._

'Stupid pink lady! I'll blow you up one day, I swear. Together with the entire doomed kindergarten. But not with Sherlock Holmes in it. No. This won't be the final blowing up. No, no, no. But it is going to start very soon. The blowing up. Blowing up is just like flying except you are a bit... burned before your frivolous flight, I have to say.'

Doesn't matter. I hate her so much. I hate kindergarten. I hate everything and everyone.

'Or maybe poison her?'

Nope. This is dumb. I am not a Roman who wants to poison his Caesar.

This is just getting even more and more ridiculous.

'Wow, Jim! You don't have toys! Ehehehehe!'

I hate this Loki guy. I do. I will make him into nice pair of Louboutins and I will give them to Molly as a Christmas gift. I swear.

'Ehy, Jimmy boy! Ahahah! Are you so poor you don't have any toys?'

'I'll kill you too, Carl Powers.'

I'll kill every-bloody-one.

'Oooouch!'

Yes, right. You have to shout because you don't have any other choice. I would make it the most painful death you've ever seen. Slow and torturing death. I like this.

Wait! Carl Powers?

Is he... dead? Like... in advance? No, no! Don't die now! Don't leave me before I've even had the brilliant opportunity to kill you. Wake up, you damn thing!

Did someone hit him? Who, for Devil's sake?

'Heeeello!'

Is this... Is this the new neighbour? The Moran's boy? Is this him? Wow! He is... tall. Auntie said he is older than me – two and a half years, if I can remember right. Maybe, he tried to hit _me_ but missed – I don't have any other explanation to his sudden defence.

'Did you aim wrong?'

'I never aim wrong,' he throws another stone. I think – it is at Loki this time. Yes, it is. I can hear his shrill 'ouch' in the near distance.

I can't help but smirk. I like this guy. Did I say I _like_ him? No, I don't. I am not supposed to like anyone at all. Well...

Ha! But he can be my ordinary thing. He will be the best 'Show and Tell' toy to be presented to the pink creature at the kindergarten. She would be proud of me. Not that I care.

'You work for me now!'

He can't quite understand what I am saying but he will get it with time. I think that he will fit my criminal profile very well. I needed someone to help me in my mischief. He is the perfect... well, assistant... _toy_.

Jim is still not here. He will be absent, most probably. No wonder. He got scared. He doesn't have any normal toys – he has only pistols and grenades, and bombs, and...

'This is my best toy!'

Wait! He is here! What is... What, the-...

'Is this the Moran's boy, Sherlock?'

John, I believe, is as confused as I am.

'Obvious. Yes, it _is_, John.'

'This is not a toy, Jimmy,' says politely (and God, how I hate her fake polite tone!) the teacher, 'This is a friend. But it's ok. He can stay.'

'Of course he can. And he will. His mother did consent. Doesn't matter he is older than me, he will stay and he will help me in hating you all and destroying you!'

John shakes off his head, sighing.

Wait! Oh, stupid, stupid me! It was right before my eyes the whole time, and I've missed it.

'John!'

John raises his eyes – an inquiring look on his face. I grab his hand and run towards the teacher, managing to pull her dreadful pink (I bet John will write this situation in his useless diary under the heading of 'A Study in Pink' – everything is a 'study' for him... or war) dress.

'Forget about Skully.'

'Yes, Sherlock. What is it? You have a better suggestion?'

'I want to show a new toy.'

I push John forward. I've never been more proud in my entire seven year-old life.

The teacher walks away, chuckling under her nose.

John is angry, I can tell. I try to make the 'puppy-eyes face' but it just doesn't work. C'mon! What now?

'It's ok now, John.'

'No, it's not! It's not ok!'

Little John and his God-knows-coming-where-from rage.

'Not good?'

'A lot not good, yeah. I am not a _toy_, you know.'

'Who gave you that idea?'

Humming a new melody (hurry up, Sherlock, write it down before you forget it – it'd make a perfect violin sound!), I am trying to walk away from John.

'Now you're imitating me, Sherlock Holmes, right?'

Oh, Jim!

'Go away.'

'Stupid doofus!'

'Get away, he said! Didn't you hear him?' John is furious. This is definitely not good. The tall blonde Jim's 'toy' is directing a sling with a stone on it at me. I hit him before he does anything at all. John, I can see, is still arguing with Jim. The guard lifts me up and locks me up in the isolation room. Great.

In a second or two the door is opened. The guard throws in John as well. Locks the door behind him.

'Joining me?'

'Yeah. Apparently, it's against the kindergarten law to trip up the Headmaster of the kindergarten.'

I chuckle, trying desperately not to show my amusement to John.

'Bit awkward, this.'

John nods.

'Listen, John. What I said... I really meant it. You are not my toy, though. You are my friend. Sometimes I mix up the two.'

'I know, Sherlock. Though, I prefer the second term. Suits me more, don't you think?'

He sits next to me, with his little arms pressing his knees towards his chest. We look at each other at the same time and burst out laughing.


End file.
